


Gentleman

by hedonisticnightmares



Series: #SpnStayAtHome [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel's Family is Rich (Supernatural), Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/pseuds/hedonisticnightmares
Summary: This one is longer. It's kind of a coffee shop/college au without real emphasis on either of those things. There's a... debutante ball... honestly, I had an idea and it all kind of got away from me, but I finished and it makes sense, so I'm not mad about it. I don't typically do one shots, and I'm not used to turning anything out at the rate of one a week, so I'm going to be proud of myself for these regardless, lolEnjoy!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SpnStayAtHome [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697713
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	Gentleman

When Castiel had argued (on his older sister’s behalf) to their mother that debutante balls were archaic, he had not expected her to agree with him. At the time, he had been fifteen, and he hadn’t expected anyone to agree with him at all. It was unsettling. Particularly after she resumed planning his sister’s coming out for the following year, and went through with it anyway. Honestly, he had very nearly forgotten about the whole incident. It wasn’t that unusual for him to be brushed off. 

The problem being that his mother never forgot anything. She had a mind like a steel trap, and she liked to remind him that it was a well from whence his own talents had sprung, and that he would do well to pay her proper respect for the favor genetics had done him. It was also why, when he turned twenty, he had nearly fainted when she presented him with the very same type of binder she had presented his sister with on her seventeenth, complete with options for his tie color.

“It took me a few more years than I would have liked to get everything organized, Castiel, but you were very right in the idea that debutante balls are archaic. Gender equality and all that. We can afford to be much more modern,” she’d patted his hand, and reminded him that the deadlines for everything were affixed to the inside cover, so he had no excuse not to know how this was all going to go. “Besides, you saw how it was with Anna, it’ll be just the same for you. Just as grand and lovely, and hopefully with less fuss.”

He’d protested that he was too old, that Anna had been younger when she’d gone through all this. He was a man already, and there wasn’t any point to having a big party just to prove it. She had fixed him with one of her coldest looks and explained very slowly and carefully that Anna had been a handful from the start, so her ball had to take place sooner rather than later, or she never would have made an appearance at all. The fact that she was halfway across the country now was proof enough. “You’ve never been half as difficult, and I’ve always been grateful for that,” her tone had warmed a bit when she said it, and Castiel remembered his sister telling him that she had started calling their mother by her first name instead of “mom,” because no one so willing to manipulate their children for their own pleasure deserved the title. 

Which was how he found himself sweating profusely in dark suit and tie, two days before his 21st, and six months before graduation, locked in his own personal version of hell. All of it, designed and orchestrated by his mother. There was probably something to that. He was just too uncomfortable to think about it enough to figure it out.

Admittedly, the whole thing was just as glamorous as she had promised. It was being hosted in the ballroom of a grand hotel, and no expense had been spared on the catering or decorations. There was about half a dozen people running around in dark shirts and headsets to handle lights and logistics, and another dozen or so serving around food and drinks. Somehow, his mother had found enough unfortunate young men (a few of which he actually did know, but didn’t run with), whose mothers probably also had them under their thumb, to make up a group of about twenty of them altogether, so that at least he wasn’t being presented alone. Which was a small relief when compared to the fact that he was currently waiting to be paraded through the room like some sort of circus animal—presented—which meant she would read off a list of all his finest accomplishments and attributes, at which point, he would be expected to dance with one of the many young women, who had also been wrangled into making all of this happen. The other numbers were made up of friends and family, society people his mother often rubbed elbows with, but didn’t actually like. He was sure she hoped he would fall into the arms of some available young socialite, and they’d hit it off and ride into the proverbial sunset, where they’d probably spend the next ten to twenty years barely able to look at one another before an eventual, messy divorce.

How Anna had lived through any of it, he had no idea. He had only managed to get out of being at her ball by the grace of the fact that he’d been involved in a soccer tournament, and was traveling to a game at the time. Unfortunately, he had dropped the sport almost as soon as he had gotten to college. Pity. Once he realized he had no real escape (his mother had threatened to not only disinherit him, but make him foot his own bill for the expensive art school he was attending if he so much as considered ducking out), he had called to ask Anna for help. She was on the other side of the country, and so couldn’t be forced to attend his public torture, but she had tutted sympathetically, and then told him to suck it up and be happy he didn’t have to do it all in heels.

So he was alone, dressed identically to the other 19 men he was in line with, and wishing with everything he was worth that someone, anyone, would rescue him from this complete and total nightmare. There was nothing worse he could think of than being forced to stand, smiling, in front of two hundred plus people he didn’t know or care to know. He hated crowds, and he hated that the whole idea made him feel like some kind of show pony. If he’d had it his way, no one would ever see him, and he could work quietly behind the scenes to make a difference in the world. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“You all right, there, buddy? Not gonna pass out, are you?” 

Castiel opened his eyes and found himself staring into a pair of familiar green ones. It took him a moment to realize who they belonged to, and he sucked in a sharp breath when it hit him, “Coffee, black, two shots espresso,” he said in a rush. Immediately, he wanted to kick himself. 

The guy grinned and shifted the earpiece he was wearing to his shoulder as he gave an automatic response, “Sorry, I’m not…” he paused and his brows drew together, “Do I know you? I feel like I’d remember a face like yours, but I can’t place you.” His eyes roamed Castiel’s face, his expression somewhere between curiosity and confusion. 

Castiel wondered if prayers were like wishes, whether or not they could get all twisted up on you if you didn’t word them very specifically. He really didn’t know what to say, because the truth was, they had never once met one another. Castiel was just a massive creep who had very consistent habits, which happened to include studying at a very specific coffee shop in the city, where he had managed to memorize the regular order of the freckle-faced Adonis standing in front of him now. He just hadn’t quite managed to get his name. 

He swallowed thickly. 

The lights went down, and the emcee began to ask people to clear the floor for the parade of beaus. Beaus. It was completely ridiculous. “Sorry,” he managed quickly, “I’ve gotta…” he motioned helplessly to his suit, and Coffee, black, two shots espresso smirked the most infuriating smirk Castiel had ever seen in his life. 

“I’ll find you later,” he said, like it was a certainty, like there weren’t nearly three hundred other people in the room, and put his earpiece back in place before he hurried off. He was wearing the same black t-shirt and dark jeans most of the other background staff were wearing, but it was all fitted to him so well that Castiel couldn’t do anything but stare after him. The only thing that kept him from staring any longer was the sharp jab to the ribs from the guy behind him to indicate that he should follow the rest of the line, which had started to move out from behind the curtains they had been hidden behind.

It wasn’t until he had been paraded around, presented, and forced to dance with two different young women, that Castiel managed to escape to a dark corner near the wine bar. He had only narrowly dodged his mother, and was really just searching for an opportune moment to make an escape. If he timed it right, he could be back in his dorm before anyone missed him. 

“So, is this one of those things you’ve been waiting your whole life for? Like, uh, a practice run for your future wedding or something? Or a swanky extra prom?”

Castiel turned, a bit startled, and found Coffee, black, two shots espresso, leaned casually against the wall next to him. His earpiece was resting on his shoulder again, and his arms were crossed over his chest. 

“Hardly,” Castiel said, and tried not to sound as unbalanced as he suddenly felt. He hadn’t expected him to actually come find him. Wasn’t that just one of those things people sometimes said to end a conversation? “I think it might be my mother’s idea of a long-term joke.”

“Expensive joke. What’s the point, again?” 

Castiel snorted, “At my expense, no less.” He ran his hand through his hair, which he had attempted to comb, but absolutely refused to gel down (despite his mother’s pleas), and sighed, “To… make me into a gentleman. Or, I guess, to send me out into the world as one. It’s all sort of… silly.” He frowned, the ridiculousness of the whole thing settling more firmly over him now that he’d had to explain it to another, presumably uninitiated, person. 

Coffee uncrossed his arms and turned his body more fully in Castiel’s direction, his lips pursed, “Doesn’t sound so bad. I can think of worse ways to be welcomed into adulthood than a fancy party with free food and alcohol.”

Castiel let his head fall back against the wall, as much to try to put a little space between them as to show that he wasn’t sure he agrees, “My 21st birthday is the day after tomorrow, and half of these guys are even younger. The alcohol is more a consolation for the friends and family who foolishly agreed to come and watch all of this.” 

“Weren’t you going to tell me how we know each other?” Coffee was smirking again. “I feel like if we were friends, I’d be getting a consolation prize with everyone else, right now.” There was something in his voice that suggested he didn’t mean the alcohol.

Castiel felt himself color, but brushed the idea off and tried not to think about how easily he had changed the subject. He supposed there was no point in trying to put it off any longer, “There’s a coffee shop near my campus. You come in a lot. Usually in the evening.” 

The smirk broadened into an actual smile, “And you’ve noticed me?” His brows lifted, “A lot if you’ve managed to memorize my order. Unless… you’re not one of the baristas, are you? I don’t remember ever-”

“No,” Castiel told him, flatly. “I just study there. A lot. And you order the same thing most of the time.” He didn’t think this would be a good time to bring up the fact that he also knew that when he came in on Wednesdays, he always ordered an apple turnover to go with his coffee. “Are you going to tell me your actual name?” Castiel asked. He probably should have just ended the conversation and gone forward with trying to make his escape, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to find out that small piece of information. He’d been watching him come in and out of there all semester, and he had no dignity left now that he’d been found out.

“Well, I guess, if a gentleman’s asking me, I can’t very well refuse to give my name,” he teased. He held out one hand for Castiel to take, “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.” He bit his lower lip and looked at him expectantly. 

Castiel took his hand, because that’s what a normal person would have done, and tried not to think about the fact that he had never imagined that these would be the circumstances under which he would find himself interacting with the good-looking guy he’d been eyeing from behind his laptop for the better part of four months. “Castiel Novak.”

“Well, Cas, I’ve got about fifteen minutes before I’m off the clock here, but if you want to meet me outside,” he jerked his head in the direction of the hall, “I think I might be able to show you a good time.” His eyes briefly skittered the length of Castiel’s body. “If you’re interested, I mean. If you’d rather stay here, not drinking and looking like you’d rather be anywhere else, I’ll respect that too.” 

Castiel felt his mouth go dry. “You don’t have to stay and help clean up?” He hated that he asked the question, but it was all he could think of, and he didn’t want to get the guy in trouble. 

“Nah. I helped set up. We rotate, so half of us do the set up, and the other half stay and do the clean up. Keeps everyone a little happier.”

“Do you have a car?” Castiel asked, his mind now running in several different directions at once. 

Dean laughed, “Yeah, I’ve got a car. Are you a car guy?” He stood up straight, and tugged at the hem of his shirt. 

“No, not at all. I just don’t have one. I usually stay in the city, so I didn’t see the need. But I’d like very much to get out of here.” 

Dean’s smile hadn’t dropped the entire time they’d been talking, “Your wish, my command. Ten minutes.” He held up ten fingers to emphasize his point as he melted into the crowd, his earpiece back in place. 

Castiel let out a breath, and wondered if some good was going to come out of this thing after all. Once he’d collected himself a little more, he grabbed one of the expensive bottles of wine from the nearby table, and as casually as he could manage, made his way out into the hall.

As it would happen, Dean declined to take Castiel back to his dorm like he requested when he finally got into the car with him. 

“Dude, if they do decide to look for you, there’s nowhere more obvious.” 

Which was how they ended up parked in the empty parking lot of an indefinitely closed convenience store, occasionally passing the bottle of wine back and forth between them, and eating the snacks Dean said he kept in his glove compartment for rainy days. 

They talked for a long time, and Dean revealed that his coffee order was the only way he made it through his classes and then shifts as part of an events staff. Unlike Castiel, he was paying his own way. Castiel, at a loss for what else to say, disclosed that he hated the tux he was wearing, and stripped out of the tie and jacket almost immediately after. It made Dean laugh, which made him laugh too, and soon they were laughing over nothing, and enjoying it all the same. Dean always seemed to tilt his head back just a little when he laughed, and Castiel couldn’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he did. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night out like this. Probably not since his sister had moved away. They’d spent so much of their time together before, that he’d almost taken it as a personal slight when she’d picked up and left without bothering to think about taking him with her. 

He’d learn later that his somber expression when he’d mentioned her was what had made Dean lean over and kiss him. 

They had been parked for a couple of hours by that point, and while Castiel found Dean ridiculously attractive, and had picked up on some of Dean’s not-so-subtle advances, he certainly hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t expected anything, really. Possibly, he thought that when the night ended, they would return to their respective lives and never speak to one another again. It made the most sense. Even if he saw Dean ordering coffee again, he hadn’t been confident that he’d have spoken to him. It would feel like trespassing. 

But then Dean’s mouth was over his, his hand warm on Castiel’s neck, and although there was a small space of time in which he was too stunned to move, his brain eventually caught up with Dean’s body, and he managed to kiss him back. It wasn’t anything aggressive or forceful; in fact, it felt almost sweet, and when it was over, Castiel found himself a little sad that it had ended so soon. 

“Was that okay?” Dean asked after he pulled away. 

Castiel stared at him, baffled by the question. He’d been thinking of what it might be like to kiss Dean months before he’d ever learned his name. Of course it was okay. “Yes,” he told him. “I’d like it if you did it again, actually.” 

Dean smirked, “Do newly minted gentlemen kiss on the first date?”

Castiel gave him a pointed look, “Is that what this is?” 

He shrugged, “If you want. Or we can make this the third date, and we can have the first one later.” He stretched his arms out against the steering wheel and lifted his eyebrows, “Although, I’m not sure a gentleman would ever be caught having his third date in a deserted parking lot in the backseat of a car.” 

His tone was teasing and light, and Castiel decided immediately that he definitely did want more dates. In absolutely any order. And if not dates, then he still wanted to know him. It was an opportunity he wasn’t willing to let slip away. Gentlemanly or not. 

He’d been trying to do things his own way since he’d started college, but with little success. He still more or less relied on his mother, and she still pretty much had him under her thumb, which, despite his disappointment, he knew was the reason his sister had gone. She was strong-willed and had never wanted to be tied down to their name or money or anything else, so making the decision to go had probably been easy for her. Castiel had done his best, but disobedience didn’t come naturally to him. Most of his attempts at independence were half-formed or aborted. He had gone to a good art school, but he had stayed in the city, not too far from home. And his mother paid his tuition. Quitting soccer had been a minor rebellion, but as it wasn’t something he had ever intended doing professionally, no one had really minded or even noticed. He had sneaked away from the ball with an attractive stranger, but not before he had performed the obligatory parts of his own role there. He had shown up, despite not wanting to do it all. 

But this decision was all his. Dean was giving him a choice. 

“Let’s go to your place then,” Castiel heard himself say. Not something he would have suggested under any other circumstances, but he felt a little buzzed from the wine, and Dean’s kiss, and it didn’t sound like a bad idea once he’d actually said it. 

Dean looked momentarily surprised, but gave him a wry grin, “You sure?” His hand was at the ignition.

“You said mine would be the first place anyone would look for me. So the logical thing would be to go to yours.”

“A gentleman and a scholar. Looks like I’ve struck lucky tonight, folks,” Dean said as he started the car. 

“Not yet,” Castiel told him dryly. 

Dean laughed and pulled out of the lot. 

Castiel heard himself gasp as he arched against Dean’s sheets, and his breath caught in his chest as Dean pulled his mouth away from him for what felt like the millionth time. He was a dreadful tease, and while Castiel had been prepared, in a vague sense, for what would happen once they got to Dean’s place, the expectation and reality were incongruent in the absolute best possible way. 

There was something immediately homey about Dean’s apartment, and once they got inside, Castiel felt much more at ease than he had been at his mother’s party. Dean had offered to make him something to eat, but Castiel gathered whatever courage he had, and kissed him instead. He didn’t want to deal with the awkward, in-between phase of knowing that you wanted to sleep with someone who also wanted to sleep with you, but not knowing how to initiate it, so he just jumped in head first. 

It had apparently been the right thing to do, because not long after, they made it to Dean’s bedroom, which brought them to their current position, where Dean would suck him halfway down his throat, and then pull off just in time for Castiel to feel like he was going to die if he didn’t get the feeling back. 

It was completely infuriating, and Castiel gripped Dean, who had busied himself with placing kisses along his abdomen, by his hair and forced him to look up at him. “If you don’t let me finish, I’m going to show you exactly how a gentleman deals with being denied,” he ground out. Dean had been teasing him all night, both verbally and physically, and to make the current situation all the more infuriating, he looked amused rather than cowed by Castiel’s threat. 

“I almost like the sound of that,” Dean said as he reached back to grab Castiel’s wrist and brought it around so he could kiss his fingers. His tongue slid between each of them, and Castiel dropped his head back against the pillow, a defeated sound escaping him. Dean chuckled and moved up to gain a better vantage. He pressed a kiss under Castiel’s ear, before bringing their mouths together in a, frankly, obscene kiss, his hips rocking steadily against Castiel’s. 

Castiel swore, and Dean reached between them and wrapped his fingers around the both of them without missing a beat. “Good?” he asked, his features barely composed in that infuriating smirk of his. 

“I hate you,” Castiel managed, probably with a little less force than he really would have liked, considering it trailed into a moan. Dean laughed at him, and he could feel it reverberate through his entire body. There was a thin sheen of sweat over Dean’s bronze skin, and Castiel leaned up and ran his tongue along his neck before kissing him again, his fingers tugging at his hair. 

They were both grunting and panting as they moved against one another, Castiel just a breath away from losing any sense of coherence he’d had left. He’d wrapped himself around Dean, and when he finally found what Dean had been denying him all night, he was ashamed to admit that he wasn’t at all quiet about it. It felt so good, better than it ever had before, certainly better than it had for the last several months when it had just been him and his own hand. He’d been with other people before, but he wasn’t sure if it was owing to Dean’s skill, or simply his own intense attraction to him, that he couldn’t see straight, let alone do anything besides curl his toes and shout obscenities when he finally came. 

Dean murmured something against his ear about how good he was, but Castiel was too spent to care much about what exactly it was. All he knew was that the warm, sticky weight against him was more satisfying than anything he’d felt in a long time.

“I think I’d call that a successful third date,” Dean said as he climbed into bed next to Castiel. He had cleaned them both up, and then returned looking wholly satisfied with himself. He tangled his fingers in Castiel’s hair and leaned in and kissed him, slowly, more like the kiss in the car, than any of the ones they’d shared since. 

“Are you… I mean, it’s all right I stay here tonight?” Castiel asked when he pulled away. Castiel had checked his phone while Dean had been in the other room, and found many missed messages and calls from his mother. She was not happy that he had skipped out, and the thought of returning to a place where she could find him and potentially strangle him in the night was less than appealing. Particularly when he’d just had such a pleasant experience. 

Dean shifted and pulled him against his chest so that they were back to front, “If I make you breakfast in the morning, does it count as a second date or is it just part of this one?” 

Castiel twisted to look at him over his shoulder, “I’m in charge of the second date. It’s only fair.” 

“Continuation then.” Dean grinned at him, “I expect to be properly wined and dined. No stolen wine this time,” he teased. “I feel like your reaction to the early birthday gift I just gave you more than warrants some wining and dining.” 

Castiel settled back against him, “All right, all right. Try not to feel too full of yourself. I’ll wine and dine you. But only because that’s what a good partner would do.” He could feel the blood in his face, even as he said it, but he’d decided that if his mother’s ball was going to symbolize anything for him, it’d be the start of him taking a few more risks and doing things that made him happier. No one said a gentleman couldn’t be a little daring. 

Dean pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “Are we defining the relationship now? Have we made it to that stage already?” There was a smile in his voice.

“Isn’t the third date when that’s supposed to happen? Or...” Castiel asked warily. He hoped he hadn’t misread the situation. It was possible that Dean meant for this to be a casual thing and had only been teasing about the dates. It was difficult for him to be sure about that kind of thing sometimes. 

“I’ve always wanted to date a real life gentleman,” Dean said, the grin in his voice more pronounced. “Is it like dating a prince? Do I get free tickets to major sporting events and museums? Fashion week? Are there any other perks?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, and tucked Dean’s arm more firmly across his chest, “I might be able to swing a museum. And the perks include me sometimes buying your black coffee with two shots of espresso and dinner, and getting to take me apart with your mouth whenever you feel like it.” 

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think about it, then. Not sure the deal is sweet enough without Fashion week. Do I get to make you wear my clothes after I’m done taking you apart?” 

“I suppose,” Castiel said, doing his best impression of his mother’s most put-upon voice. He liked the idea that when he woke in the morning, he wouldn’t have to put his tux back on. He was pretty sure some of the buttons were missing now anyway. 

Dean pressed his nose against the back of Castiel’s neck, “Deal. I’ll make sure to change my relationship status to ‘taken by a true gentleman’ first thing in the morning.”

Castiel snorted and closed his eyes, his fingers twined against his chest with Dean’s. Maybe his mother’s party had been ridiculous and silly, but he had to admit, he didn’t think he’d mind being called a “gentleman” from now on if it was Dean that was doing the calling.


End file.
